


Fighting You, Hating You, Loving You

by loonymoonyalive



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gay Sirius Black, James Potter - Freeform, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), POV Remus Lupin, Remus/Sirius - Freeform, Sirius/Remus - Freeform, Werewolf Remus Lupin, james potter is sick of them, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28417998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonymoonyalive/pseuds/loonymoonyalive
Summary: I do not support jkr!! this is just a little fuck you to her transphobic ass,,, enjoy!
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 18





	Fighting You, Hating You, Loving You

**Author's Note:**

> I do not support jkr!! this is just a little fuck you to her transphobic ass,,, enjoy!

We’ve been fighting more, you and I. I don’t know why we do, or more so, why what we fight about turns into something so much more. It just seems that anything we do, the other has a problem with it. Maybe this was our fate.

 _”I hate you!”_ It just slips out, and I choke. It feels like my tongue tied, or rather it was glued to the roof of my mouth. I can’t tell you how much of a lie it is, and I can’t explain to you that I don’t want to fight anymore, and that I miss you, Padfoot. 

I feel your pain, your hurt-- or is it my own? I can’t tell these days. The room-- time-- freezes and all I want to do is run to you, but my stubbornness gets the better of me. I stay where I am, the open window leaving a chill to give me goosebumps. 

“Okay.” Your tone is cold, unresponding. I know that’s not how you feel. I hope that’s not how you feel, because if you don’t care, if you don’t feel the way I feel right now-- it means you think the same thing about me. Say it-- say you hate me, Padfoot, I know you want to. 

I know you’re dying to leave the room, leave _me_ , leave us. On the map, will it say “Moony, Wormtail, and Prongs” or “Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs”? Will you try to get out, or isolate me? It hurts when you leave, even if I know I’m going to see you tonight. It hurts when you leave because I know that it’s not the same as when we were little-- that you don’t want to come back into the dorm room. 

Your bed is next to mine, I hate that. I wish we weren’t so close, because then this would hurt a lot less. 

Prongs comes in as you’re walking away. It’s funny in an ironic sense. He looks at me on the bed and your hard expression, and sighs through his nose like he always does. He never liked fighting. But it seems like we’ve been letting him down recently, like he’s rooting for us, like he’s placed a bet on our racing horse, but we’re coming in last.

When you close the door is when he speaks. “Why can’t you guys make up?” He looks at me with those parental eyes, disappointed and tired. I hate them.

“It’s not as easy as you say it is; not all of us can be like James Potter.” My tone is bitter and it shows, I know that.

“I’m not saying-- it’s just tiring, alright? I miss Padfoot and Moony, I don’t exactly like Reaming and Serious. You guys just seem so on edge recently.”

I scoff, it’s almost a mocking laugh. “Really? Us? On edge?”

“Don’t give me that-- I’m only telling you how it is. What do you guys even fight about?”

The truth is, I don’t know. It starts out small-- you leave something on my bed, I blow cigarette smoke in your direction, we speak at the same time-- it’s always something we would have laughed about last year, always insignificant. “I dunno, what are _your_ pet peeves?”

James nodded, but looked to the side. “It’s not worth fighting over, I’m sure you know that.”

“I know, but-- I dunno, my temper is shorter these days.”

“Maybe you need to shag someone,” James suggested with a laugh-- always so polite, he is. 

“Alright, alright-- when’s the last time you got any, Mr. I’m-saving-myself-for-Lily?” 

James threw a shirt and sighed. “But seriously, I think it would take the edge off.”

“I’ll take a note, thanks.”

***

With James it’s so easy. I remember when it used to be like that with us-- but it seems like a lifetime ago. Why did it change?

It’s been a week since I’ve seen you awake, but you’re back. We’re alone again, I know you hate that from the way your jaw clenches. I don’t want to be someone you hate-- don’t put me next to your family, please. What do you want from me, Padfoot? Do you want me to confess to you? Do you want me to tell you what I swore I would never, to get on my knees and beg you, pleading for understanding?

“Padfoot.” My voice is hoarse and achy. You look at me; I hate that you’re surprised I said your name. I hold my tongue.

“Yeah?” Your voice is the same as mine-- tired and rasping like you’ve been crying. It makes me want to kiss your throat to make it all better.

“Um-” I don’t know what to say, I just like the sound of your name and the sound of your voice and I miss you, and I should say that. But how do I say it if you don’t miss me? I hate it when I choke on my words, because recently I only do talking to you. “Did you talk to Wormtail today?” It’s a lame excuse to talk to you-- I should apologize, I should tell you I don’t hate you, that it’s the exact opposite of hate, and that I’m in love with you, but I don’t. 

Your fist tightens, and I’m afraid. I’ve never been afraid of you, Padfoot, I don’t want to start now. “Yeah, I did.” Your tone is harsh, but at least it’s no longer monotone. “Is that all?”

I want to get angry at you for talking to me like that, but I deserve it. I won’t turn this into another fight, I can’t. I’m thinking about what James said. “Er-” What do I say? I’ve always been rubbish at apologies, especially big ones. “I’m sorry?” It sounds forced and comes out like a question, and I want to yell at myself. 

“Are you asking me what I said?” You’re being snarky. I want to hit you, make your face look not-so-perfect, maybe you’ll learn to cut it out. 

“You know what I meant.”

“Remus,” you sigh, hard, and rub your face like _I’m_ tiring you. You haven’t called me by my first name in a while-- even during fights it’s ‘Moony’. “I don’t like fighting with you.”

It used to be me who took the wheel, you would get choked like I am now. But I guess you’ve grown more than I have. “I don’t ei--”

“Then why do we keep fighting?” You sound desperate. “I don’t like hearing you talk to me like you hate me-- I get that enough at home--” You stop, and shut your open mouth.

“Don’t give me that.” I’ve gone through hell and back, too, don’t you know that? Of course you do, I don’t know why you’re ignoring it. “I know, I know what you go through, but please don’t amount me to them.”

“Remus, I didn’t mean to comp--”

“Stop calling me Remus! Sirius-- I miss you. Do you not like fighting with me, or do you just not like _me?_ ” It spills out, almost all of it. All my fears, in that one sentence. I don’t want you to confirm it, even if it is true.

You seem frozen in time, it doesn’t even look like you’re breathing. “Why would you-- Moony, of course I like you, I--” 

Silence falls, and it holds for too long, because I’ve decided to ask you. “I never wake up with you in my bed anymore. Have the nightmares stopped?”

You ignore me, “You said you hated me.”

“I-” I can’t deny it. I did. But I don’t hate you. I hate things about you. I hate the way I feel when I’m around you-- like everything is closing in on me and you’re still fine, perfect. I hate the way I get nostalgic about you, like you’re gone, even though you’re right here. I hate the way I miss you-- because it means we’re drifting apart. And I hate that I love you. “I didn’t mean it-- and I know that sounds lame.”

Your breath is steady, and I can see it now. “You seemed like you meant it.”

“Well I didn't, I don’t know why I said those things, because never in my life will I mean them-- you could kill me, and I’d still forgive you in the afterlife.” You laugh slightly, and that’s all I need. I feel my legs moving me closer to you, but everything seems blurry, like I’m trying to remember a dream. 

And then I kiss you, and my thoughts come back to life, racing among one another-- because you’re kissing me _back_. And for a moment I forget all the fights we’ve ever had, because your lips against mine feel so absolutely right, and your hand on my waist feels like it’s been there all along, and your breath against my face sounds like my own. Because _I love you_ and I know you know it from the way you hesitate to pull away.

But then, “Wait--” My heart stops. “What are you doing?” 

Say something clever, I tell myself. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m kissing you.” It doesn’t sound right coming out of my mouth, it would fit better in yours. 

“But… why?”

You stare at me for a moment, and take your hand off my waist, and I don’t know what to say. Are you asking because you didn’t like it? I have a million reasons why-- which of them do you want to know? “Well, because I like you.”

You stay silent, and I wonder if you can hear my heartbeat. It’s so loud, thumping against my chest like it’s a bird in its cage, beckoning to be free. If you could hear it, you’re ignoring it. “Like… _like_ like me?” 

“For fuck’s sake, Padfoot, what do you think?” Fuck. I hope you understand that I have a short temper and I’m not just always angry at you.

“Moony.” You look me in the eyes. _Tell me,_ you’re asking.

I swallow, hard. “I’m in love with you.” 

You soak in each syllable, keeping eye contact until you move in again, kissing me tenderly and slowly, neater and more uniform than when I kissed you. You still let me take control, but you remind me that you’re not under my power. 

This is all I ever wanted, I know that now. Just your lips against mine, your hands on me. I want to stay like this forever-- just you and me in bliss. 

When you pull away this time I never question if you hate me, I don't fear that you're filled with regret, because I know that you're enjoying this as much as I am. Foreheads pressed together, I feel your breath against my face, and we're so close that I can hear you swallow. "I love you too." It comes out shaky and nervous, but you mean it. 

Another kiss, soaking in and acknowledging what we've both been denying for too long. I spend the rest of the night stealing kisses from you, hugging you like we won't see each other ever again-- loving you like you need to know you're loved.

Because I am always loving you, Padfoot.


End file.
